


And truth tiptoes in

by JaqofSpades



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fandom Stocking 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaqofSpades/pseuds/JaqofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eli Navarro ponders Lilly Kane's secrets - and one of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And truth tiptoes in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [empty_marrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empty_marrow/gifts).



> A/N: A fandom stocking filler for empty_marrow, who requested Veronica/Weevil, or Weevil/Lilly.

***  
It's his single favourite place on Veronica's body, that delicious dimple at the top of her otherwise muscled thigh. He starts at her pretty pink-tipped toes, so by the time he makes it all the way up, she's slippery-sweet under his tongue and already begging. He aches with the need to give in, but then he remembers the way her hands scrabble for him when she's truly desperate. He's just settling into a steady, open-mouthed suck that pretends he's got all the time in the world when the lightbulb overhead expires with a pop and tiny puff of smoke.

Eli lifts his head with a curse, but Veronica only cares that he has stopped. She babbles something he doesn't catch, but he knows exactly what she's trying to say. They've only been doing this a week, this time round, but he'll never forget any of the ways she begs him not to stop. He's about to drop his head again when a shimmer of green on white coalesces into a familiar figure, hovering just outside of his field of vision.

Lilly Kane, still 17 and viciously beautiful, even with blood dripping endlessly from the side of her head.

It's dark, he thinks with a shiver. He's imagining it. Couldn't see a goddamn thing anyway, certainly not a girl five years dead, still wearing that skimpy little uniform. 

Pep squad, she'd explained, the first time she'd let him peel her out of it. “Apparently,” she'd bounced, “I have too much pep.” He'd left her less peppy that day, and a dozen other times after that. “Thoroughly fucked,” she liked to moan, and sink her teeth into his bicep in mock-protest.

He thought it was love, but it didn't count for anything, in the end. She bounced between him and Echolls all summer, and then the week school started, dropped him cold, even threatening him with a restraining order. But Lilly's cold was hotter than most, and she'd still bail him up in an empty classroom every now and then, or send him a note with a dirty picture wrapped up in it. “Think of me,” she'd scrawled across one Polaroid, lush tits gleaming with that expensive oil she liked to smear all over him. He'd kept that photo, but burnt the other – white thighs, long red fingernails, and between them, her clit, dark red and swollen. “Taste?” was all it said, and his mouth had watered at the thought.

A year later, it's her Polaroids he's after when he breaks into the Kane house. Veronica had started looking into the case, and she was gonna track down Lilly's stash eventually. He's not sure why, but he doesn't want her seeing those photos. They're private, he'd told himself at the time. Now, after watching Aaron Echolls walk free, he wonders if somewhere in that pile of photos he couldn't bear to look at, had been something that could have helped put the bastard away. But he'd burnt them all that same night and what really eats at him? He can't quite bring himself to confess that to Veronica.

It feels like a betrayal when she's spread out underneath him, about to slip the leash on her precious control. She lets him see her totally undone, and he can't even share something about her best friend, the one she still loves so stubbornly. It feels like he's choosing Lilly over her, and that's not it. That'll never be it, he insists, finally turning his head to eyeball the ghost in the shadows. He'll be damned if he'll let Lilly Kane take any more from him than she already has. 

Eli drops back down to nestle himself between Veronica's thighs, whispering his apologies with a wet tongue and long, teasing strokes of his fingertips.

“I'm here, completely yours,” they tell one blonde. “You no longer have any power over me,” they telegraph the other.

Eli focuses on the tiny indentation like a man at worship, trailing around its edge then delving deep inside, before tugging the flesh into his mouth to worry it with his teeth. He smiles as her hips start to buck, urging him upwards, but still he makes her wait, hot puffs of breath ruffling the blonde curls that cover her mound. When he finally bows his head, she lets out a moan of anticipation, and spreads herself wide. He wants to dive in, but for all her sweet, little noises – he needs her wild. So he keeps the movements small and precise, like picking a lock with the tip of his tongue. He pokes and prods and flicks and teases, but never gives her what she needs to fly over the edge. Not yet. 

It's not till she starts to thrash her head from side to side that he brings his fingers into play, nudging at her swollen clit as if in passing, but then continuing on to pay his respects in the garden of delights below. He collects her juices and slicks them over every inch of her, gorgeous rose-dark petals and puffy pink beyond; the mysterious depths inside and then out again, skimming down to the tight pucker that seems to clutch at his pinkie finger. 

“So wet, mama,” he croons, laughing as she replies with another spurt of moisture. He sops it up on the pads of his fingers, and licks them slowly, savouring. She's so rich on his tongue that it breaks him – he needs another hit, and needs it pure. He buries his face deep, nose and cheeks and lips and tongue drowning in sticky-sweet bliss. He noses around like a blind babe, sucking here, licking there, and she's hitting him, scratching him with her nails and crying for him to let her come, _please, now, please Weevil, please_. He plunges three fingers deep inside, finds the rhythm to match her frantic thrusts, then sucks her clit between his teeth. 

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Veronica howls, her back bowing off the bed and her knees jerking high and wide in pure reflex. “Nownownownownow,” she orders, and he jumps to obey, throwing himself forward to drive into her. Hard as he wants her, he thinks wildly. Deep as he needs her.

“Mine. She's mine,” he grits into Veronica's hair as he shudders and shakes his way through the cataclysm. Veronica interweaves her fingers with his and squeezes, as if there was never a question of that. She thinks he's talking to Echolls, or that Piz kid, but it's not them hovering in the corner of his room.

She always was blind where Lilly was concerned.

“She visits me sometimes,” Veronica had confessed, when they first started messing around, back in junior year. Later, when they were friends again, she'd told him about the day of the bus crash, and how Lilly had led her right to him.

Didn't expect this though, did ya Lil, he thinks wryly as Veronica shifts into the lazy sprawl she adopts for sleep, only their toes touching. She's lost to snuffling little snores within minutes, satisfaction written in every line of her body. Eli closes his eyes to soak up the moment, every synapse still jangling, and blindly reaches out to take her hand. He meets something cold, burning like ice, instead.

She's somehow lying between them, back to him, one hand drifting over (and sometimes through) Veronica's naked form. That ghostly hand smoothes her hair, then moves over her shoulder, to venture down, down, to the breathtaking jut of Veronica's small breasts. He watches, silent, as Lilly drags in a shuddering breath, then reaches out with a shaking finger to circle one over-sensitised nipple.

Veronica arches up into the ghostly touch, bites at her lip, then relaxes back into sleep. Lilly flicks her hair back to look over her shoulder, taunting him with a triumphant smirk. It makes him mean.

“She doesn't even know you're here,” he hisses quietly. “But that's the way you want it, right? Can't let Veronica figure out that secret of yours.”

Because after all these years, the truth has come tiptoeing in. It's not Logan Echolls she's been visiting the past five years. It's sure as hell not him.

As secrets go, it's a good one.

“Must kill you not be able to touch her, hey girl? Wanna know how she tastes?” The barrio kid that hated her for making a fool of him insists on tugging at his sticky cock, offering it to her. “Or were you just pretending to like cock all along?” he jeers.

Lilly's jealousy boils over him, a tangible thing that burns like acid. He wonders what it is she craves so desperately – the sex, hot and dirty and so fucking good it's addictive, or the relationship they've been slowly clawing out of the rubble of the past.

Her rubble, he thinks bitterly, forcing himself to remember the anguish and forget the times he actually liked the girl.

“What? Am I forgetting I'm just your back door man? 1-800 call Weevil for a good time?” he sneers, confident Veronica is out for the count. “Nah, Lilly girl. V and me, it's different. Not like your sick little games. This means something.”

The bitch only has to raise her eyebrows to remind him that Veronica never calls him her boyfriend, either. But Veronica's not Lilly, and he reckons Lilly knows it.

He'd like to make the roster, he doesn't deny it. But Veronica thinks she's shit with relationships, and he's gotta respect that until he can convince her otherwise. It's enough that she's done with Echolls and done with that Piz kid and spending time with him that's more than just some case.

And this. Not that they'd ever had to work at this. He'd given up on his vow never to touch another white girl the day Veronica Mars had brought in her old Le Baron for new headlights, and stayed for four, heat-filled hours. (He can't say quite when he fell in love with her, except that it wasn't then. By the time she got back with Kane, he had decided she was Lilly all over again. But then she stomped right past him on the first day of senior year, and he had to admit he didn't really care.) 

They still hurt, Lilly's wounds, but now he knows what love feels like, it hurts less. He's no closer to understanding what she saw in him – what any of them do, if he's honest – but he starting to realise Lilly wasn't the girl everyone thought she was. Hell, Lilly mightn't even have been the girl Lilly thought she was.

None of them had meant a damn thing to her - sex had been a game, and they were just interchangeable playing pieces. Sometimes, though, she'd used him as a sounding board. Talked about the things she was losing sleep over, the reasons she came looking for distraction in the night.

Chief among them, Veronica Mars.

She was hurting so much, Lilly had said. Duncan didn't deserve to be loved like that, didn't even know what love meant. Not the way Lilly did.

He'd laughed at the thought of this selfish, spoiled white girl knowing the first thing about love, but now, he knows better.

Lilly Kane had a secret. A really good one.

Shame she died before Veronica Mars could figure it out.

 

_fin_


End file.
